Page 90 of Clean Sweep
Grumpiness aside, I stood in the back right corner, where my suit had been sitting in a plastic bag for too many years. It was a bit tight through the shoulders and arms, but it would do for now.
“Not,” I shouted back, even as I adjusted my tie.
Of course I wanted to go to Landon’s wedding. Not only was I committed to seeing this through, but I needed to clap eyes on Leslie.
We’d been avoiding each other since she kicked me out of Landon’s apartment. While I contemplated all the ways I could tell her that I’d been a schmuck, she’d been dealing with a wedding, a secret, and a sick daughter-in-law. I wanted to help her.
But I didn’t know how.
Celeste appeared in my closet, an argument clearly poised on her tongue, then fell silent when she saw me. A bemused expression followed. I grinned and spread my hands. “Well? Does your old man clean up okay?”
She advanced inside, messed with my tie, brushed off my shoulders, then smiled. “Better than okay, Dad. You’re a silver fox.”
“Did you just call me a fox?”
“No.” She stepped back a twinkle in her eye. “A silver fox. It’s a romance book thing. I heard Dahlia call you that the other day, and Lizbeth gave an emphatic agreement. It’s a good thing,” she quickly clarified. “It means you’re attractive for your age.”
“For my age,” I muttered. “Why did that have to be tacked on?”
“Ready to go?”
Her brightness didn’t distract me from the comment, but I did let it slide. No, I wasn’t ready to go. But then, I’d never be ready to face Leslie and the possibility that she wanted nothing to do with me.
“You look lovely.” I eyed her dress, but found no fatherly-faults with it. She’d chosen a Christmas-y type. Long sleeves and a skirt to the knees, all in red with a black belt buckle across the front. Cute and, I would have imagined, very in fashion. That was her mother’s influence, not mine.
“Thanks.” She twirled a little, displaying her favorite boots with fuzzy tops. Golden curls winked in the light as she moved. “I even curled my hair.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“I know. Shall we go?”
How she managed to compliment herself without sounding like an arrogant brat, I’d never know. Celeste had always had that uncanny ability to own herself, even at a young age. At moments like this, I couldn’t be more proud to be her father. I stuck out my arm. She smiled and linked hers through it.
“Now,” she said with determination. “Let’s go grovel to Leslie and watch a wedding. In that order.”
THE PARKING LOTof the Frolicking Moose bustled with life.
Cars filled up every spot, spilling onto the road, across the street at the grocery store, and down the row, near the hardware center and the medical clinic. All of Pineville had watched Landon grow up, and like they always did, all of Pineville wanted to be part of the party.
The Frolicking Moose bustled inside. Jingle bells. Tinsel. Twinkle lights. Peppy Christmas music played in the background while a conglomeration of visitors milled around. The moment we stepped into the madness, a bevy of old students gave a collective shout, then surrounded me. Their thunderous claps on the back followed.
Just as quickly, Celeste disappeared, plunging deeper into the madness.
Above all the warm camaraderie, my gaze didn’t stop searching for one particular blonde head of hair with dark roots, probably wearing something black and snazzy, with a twinkle in her eye and quick smile.
To my dismay, I couldn’t peg Leslie anywhere. Nicholas stood nearby, and Max and Blake buzzed through the room.
While a rock-and-roll version of Jingle Bells played in the background, I managed to extricate from a rowdy conversation between a couple of former football students and sidle toward the back of the room.
A door existed back there that led to an outside porch, and I had a feeling Leslie would be somewhere bustling in between the two. She wasn’t the sit-around-and-chat type, not while a party happened.
Following the hunch led me to a less densely-packed area of the place, where I recognized Lizbeth and her younger sister, Ellie, busy near a punch table. As expected, Leslie lingered not far away, dictating orders rapid-style while she arranged cookies on a platter.
I stopped to watch her, my chest tight.
Lizbeth glanced up and paused. A waterfall of red hair fell over one shoulder. Strapped to her chest was a small baby with equally bright hair on top. The baby slept, cradled close to Mom. Ellie, sensing her sister’s change in pace, glanced up. She looked at Lizbeth, then me, then Leslie. Her expression darkened slightly.
Uh oh.
